


In the year that passed, we loved

by HopeS_park



Series: When I was young [2]
Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: M/M, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-01-04 10:33:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12167154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopeS_park/pseuds/HopeS_park
Summary: Everyone has a special chapter in their life that they like to remember. For Soma, it's a person. For Arshad, it's a life.





	1. Pierrot laughs at us

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, so this is the fanfic I've been talking about on tumblr. The one that I've been very anxious about publishing. It was a rather spontaneous idea, but I really liked it and wanted to try it out. I really like AUs, though I usually hate High School AUs, so yeah.
> 
> I'm afraid the topics of this fic may be offending to some, but it's really not what I'm trying to do. Maybe this story is also somewhat a way of coping for me, i don't know. All in all, I think I do like sad and rather dark stories, especially those that have got some inspirational message. It's kind of what I'd like to try with this fic. It won't be updated that often, for two reasons:
> 
> 1\. I've got to spend a lot of time in school and learning, because I really need to keep my grades in order to be able to do my exchange year.
> 
> 2\. The time I've got for writing will probably be spent on my own books.
> 
>  
> 
> Oh, yeah, and the chapter's titles will be titles of my favourite songs. I'll be crediting them at the beginning of every chapter.
> 
> So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy this (rather controversial) fanfic of mine! ^-^
> 
> Song: IU - Pierrot laughs at us

 

 

> **_I like the smiling clown better_ **
> 
> **_I like the clown who knows sadness better_ **
> 
> **_-  I_** **_U – Pierrot laughs at us_ **

"I wouldn't jump today."

Startled, Soma turned around. Upon spotting the older man, he sighed and turned back. "And why?" he said, sounding annoyed, more than anything, "Because the weather is so nice today?"

When the man didn't reply, Soma almost thought he'd truly found the reason, just to be proved wrong.

"Because it's my birthday."

Arshad leaned onto the railing, next to Soma, not acknowledging the teenager. Without saying anything else, he lighted a cigarette, staring off into space.

"You should stop that, you know," Soma broke the silence, "Smoking, I mean. It's bad, for your lungs."

Arshad couldn't keep from laughing. "Says the one who stayed a week in the hospital because he drank bleach."

"That's something different," Soma argued, almost pouting, "I wanted to die."

Arshad raised a brow. He still wasn't looking at the young teen.

"What makes you think I don't?"

Soma paused. Unsure, he said, "Well. Smoking takes a long time to kill you, doesn't it?"

Arshad shrugged. "Perhaps I want to die slowly."

"Sorry. I'm not buying it." Soma blindly reached for the cigarette, taking it from the older man.

Arshad wasn't angry. He simply smiled, and, when the teen was facing away from him again, lighted another cigarette.

"You're right. I am not really planning on dying, at least not yet."

A breeze blew through the violet ponytail of the younger boy. His hands still held on tight to the railing, his butt barely still touching the roof's edge. Then, with a defeated sigh and a puff of air, he swung his legs back over the railing, coming to stand next to Arshad.

"Perhaps you're right. Today is a far too beautiful day to spend it with thoughts of dying."

 

And so they found themselves spending the rest of the lunch break in the school's infirmary, which was also something like Arshad's office. Soma had gone to get some cake from the cafeteria (they usually gave food to him for free), and Arshad had made himself busy with making coffee.

Now, as Soma returned with a plate full of cake and muffins, he made to clean the office table.

"You know what, they even gave me the chocolate cake they usually give to the headmaster," he chuckled, "It pays being handsome."

"Then get your handsome ass over here, the coffee's getting cold."

Soma giggled, sitting down on Arshad's office chair. The man shot him a glare. He obviously had been the one who wanted to sit down. Now, instead, he leaned against the windowsill.

The violet-haired teen lifted the foil off the plate, glancing at it. "They even gave me forks."

But the two Indians didn't bother with forks. Instead, they stuck to their country's culture, eating the cake with bare hands. They didn't really talk, then again, they usually never did, since Soma despised small talk just as much as Arshad did.

"Today is our anniversary," Soma finally said, having enough of the usual silence between them.

"Hm?" was all the answer he got.

Sighing, he set away his plate and said, "The 24th. It was the 24th when we met in February"

Arshad crooked a brow, still finding the cake more interesting than Soma. "Drop it. I'm not gonna celebrate our meeting on my birthday."

"Speaking of it, how old are you even? 39? 40?"

It was meant as a joke. But Arshad seemed to have taken offense in the comment of the younger man and said so by shooting him a glare.

"29. I'm turning 29."

But Soma didn't let go of his little joke. At least not that easily.

"Really? Well, your hair says differently."

Arshad was tempted to throw some cake in his handsome face.

"I already explained it to you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did," Soma agreed, "But I didn't pay attention."

That was the breaking point.

Without giving so much as a warning, Arshad threw the cake at him. Soma dashed it, grinning brightly at the white-haired man. When said one realized that the cake had instead hit the wall behind the doctor’s couch, he let loose a flood of swear words (most of them wishing bad to befall the younger teen), before getting up to clean it off.

"The headmaster's gonna fire me. This time for sure," he muttered while throwing away the mashed pieces of the cake.

"Yeah. Like the last twenty times you said that. Perhaps I should have bought you a dictionary?"

Arshad didn't even get to answer. Outside, somebody was frantically beating against the door.

"Kadar! We know you're in there, come out at once! Whole team's been lookin' for you."

Soma rolled his eyes. He was used to this. Used to the P4 getting on his nerves. Being a popular student sure wasn't easy. Then again, Soma never asked for it anyways. It probably came with being the son of a CEO.

“Man, I hate those guys,” he muttered, sticking his tongue out.

Arshad couldn’t really blame him. He didn’t like the Prefects himself, but of course his job permitted him from having any kind of personal opinion towards a student. Then again, he was spending his free time with Kadar, which probably also counted as a personal opinion.

“Come on, you better don’t want to let them down. Isn’t the competition this week?”

“It’s only national,” Soma pouted, “Besides, they’ll be fine on their own.”

Another voice came from outside. “Kadar, I’m counting to ten!”

“Do what you like.”

Arshad really didn’t have the nerve to watch this anymore. He unlocked the door and opened it so rapidly that Greenhill and Redmond nearly stumbled into the office. They quickly composed themselves though. Greenhill was the first to regain his ability to speak.

“See, we knew you were there. You had promised you wouldn’t skip today, remember?”

“And he wasn’t going to,” Arshad interrupted the conversation, soon before the purple-haired teen could even speak.

He felt something like satisfaction when the two Prefects gripped the student’s arms and pulled him along, out of the room. Perhaps he hadn’t been entirely fair, but Arshad had things he had to do as well. He couldn’t just sit around the whole day and make sure that a certain purple-haired boy didn’t kill himself.

Other people were capable of doing that too.

“Best of luck!” he called after the three, but he was probably lucky that the teen didn’t hear him anymore. Otherwise this comment would probably have been followed by a thrown shoe.

 

After his office had quieted down, he had actually been wanting to clean away the rest of the mess he’d made, but something held him back. The teen’s student records. Neatly spread out all over the table. Arshad had been reading through it, shortly before he’d decided to join the teen on the rooftop.

Now, upon realizing the teen had most probably seen them, he felt terrible. He hadn’t read them to spy on Soma. (To be completely honest, Arshad was pretty sure there wasn’t anything new for him which he could learn about the purple-haired boy, anyway.)

He had wanted to help him. Find a way to get him out of that house, before he could put his thoughts of dying into action.

This time, as the door opened, he lifted his head, eagerly expecting the teen to enter. Instead, one of the freshman’s entered. Arshad didn’t remember the girl’s name, but he’d seen her around rather often.

Most times she came in with a bleeding finger, because she had hurt herself accidentally while sewing.

Arshad shot her a smile, asking her to sit down, while hoping he’d get a chance to apologize to Soma.


	2. No Promises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cheat Codes, Demi Lovato - No Promises

 

> **_Promise me no promises_ **
> 
> **_Don't you promise me nothing_ **
> 
> ****
> 
> **_\- Cheat Codes, Demi Lovato – No Promises_ **

 

Soma took a deep breath, before reaching for the door handle. He had only just opened the door and entered the house when the noise enveloped him. It was strange. In a way, these voices and noises were familiar to him. Then again, they weren’t, because it was a new day.

On the couch, inside the huge, luxurious living room, sat his father, surrounded by various women. But not just women that were unknown to Soma. His mother as well. Soma bit his lip, not daring to disturb his father’s doing (whatever it was he was doing).

He thought it sad how his mother still tried to regain her husband’s affections, instead of just getting a divorce. Soma wasn’t even thinking of himself when he thought this. The damage had been done to him already, and he didn’t blame his mother for it. Instead, he blamed his father.

And someone else. He blamed Tamal, his oldest brother, for leaving everything to him, the youngest. Expect for Tamal none of the brother’s had moved out by now.

Soma suspected because living in an estate was an easy life. But he knew very well that, as soon as he turned 18, he’d be out of here.

Soma made his way to the kitchen, not paying attention to the sounds emanating from the living room.

The kitchen had been pretty empty ever since his dad fired all the cooks. Old Mohini had been the only one to stay. And Soma knew that she had only stayed because she feared for the well-being of her "wards", how she called Soma and his brothers. Soma was truly thankful for Mohini. She was the least bit of normality in this extremely mad household. Next to Ranjit perhaps.

Ranjit always acted like his smaller brother, even though he was actually a year older. But Ranjit had never really gotten over the negligence of his father. Other than Soma, who’d just learned to accept it over the years.

So the purple-haired boy had started caring for his older brothers, because, so he’d said, it helped him forget how lonely he actually was.

“Namaste, Mohini,” he said, leaning against the doorframe.

The old cook shot him a smile. “Namaste, Soma. What? You haven’t brought handsome with you?”

For a second, Soma was extremely startled, until he realized whom Mohini was talking about. “Oh,” he sounded almost horrified, “Oh, you meant Ranjit.”

Mohini, taking the pot from the stove, lifted a brow. Though she didn’t look at Soma, the teen blushed. “Well, whom did you think I was talking about?”

But Soma dodged that question. “Can I take some of the curry upstairs?”

“Little fella, aren’t you supposed to eat downstairs?” Mohini didn’t sound angry. She rather sounded amused. But without giving so much as an answer, she filled a bowl for Soma and gave it to him.

“You know,” she said, while he was already leaving the kitchen, “You really should start eating more diverse food. Aren’t you sick of curry already?”

Soma was silent for a bit. He simply stirred his curry, staring at it in an almost forlorn manner. Then, without turning back and already having half-left the kitchen, he answered, “It reminds me of ma.”

Not wanting to see Mohini’s pitying expression, he left.

 

“Mr. Iyer, could I talk to you for a second?”

Arshad nearly groaned. Internally, he did. But instead he flashed his best fake smile and turned around to look at the black-haired headmaster. Arshad really _did_ like Mr. Michaelis, though there was something about the man that made him choose his words very carefully when talking to him.

“Mr. Michaelis. Yes, of course. What’s u-…Uh, what’s the matter?”

Michaelis crooked a brow at the familiar expression, but he didn’t say anything. He probably had stopped bothering with Arshad’s speech manners a long time ago.

“You’re little ward appeared a bit…well, reluctant at the cricket team’s practice today.”

Arshad was dumbfounded for a moment. It wasn’t that he didn’t know how to answer, he simply had no clue whom the man was talking about. Until, suddenly, it clicked.

“Ward? Oh, you mean Kadar. Yeah, well, I think he _was_ reluctant. But is it really that much of a surprise?”

“Actually, it is.”

When hearing this, Arshad had to admit he was a bit surprised. He had always thought that it was just the way of the teen. That ‘ _not caring_ ’ was his way of living. But it seems like he’d been wrong all this time.

“Kadar has rather been a good student throughout the years. I don’t suppose you know, and it’s not my place to tell, but he’s in a bad familial situation. Though it seems as if that hasn’t affected his grades a bit.”

Well, I _did_ know, Arshad thought, but didn’t say. Instead he only nodded, listening to what the headmaster had to say.

“I know from your records that you had rough teen years yourself, so may I…”

Arshad cut him off, “We’re already in contact. I’m not so keen on making friends with annoying teens, but Kadar’s a nice one. All he needs is some…steadiness. I dunno how much help I can be, but I’m trying.”

Michaelis obviously wanted to answer. Just in that moment, Arshad’s phone ringed. A look at the display confirmed his assumptions.

“Speaking of the devil…,” he muttered, looking up to Michaelis, “Sorry, it’s our beloved. See you tomorrow.”

 

In front of the school, Arshad picked the call up, leaning against one of the bike racks.

“Kadar. What's up?”

There was some unintelligible blabbering. Then, silence.

 “Kadar?”, Arshad asked again. He bit his lips, unsure of what to say. He decided then, that straightforward was the best option he got. “I meant no harm. I...It was...I should've asked, sorry.”

Arshad heard a faint chuckle at the other end of the line. “It's alright. But I already told you there wasn't anything remotely similar to the bleach incident.”

Said incident had been the very reason why Arshad had looked at Soma's records. He had wanted to know how bad it really was. If the teen had tried something similar in order to kill himself.

The words were out before Arshad had thought them over.

“How 'bout stayin' at my place?”

Stunned silence.

At least Arshad hoped it was stunned silence and not that the purple-haired teen had ended the call.

“Sure?” Soma finally answered, “It's...a little complicated here right now, anyways.”

In that very moment, Arshad thought he'd had heard the breaking of glass.

“Kadar? Are you fine?”

“Yeah, sure.” Arshad heard another breaking sound. “I ain't got your address.”

So Arshad gave it to him.

 

It took Soma barely fifteen minutes to get to Arshad's place. And it wasn't really anything like he'd imagined it.

It seemed like a totally ordinary place. A totally ordinary building, with kids playing in the yard.

 _Apartment No. 25_ was written in the message he'd received from Arshad. He produced his phone from his pocket and called up the older man. It only ringed once until Arshad picked up.

“I’m not sure I’m at the right place,” was the first thing Soma said.

 

At the other end of the conversation, Arshad was currently standing at the stove, stirring a soup in the pot. Upon the comment of the younger one, he opened the curtains.

“You are,” he answered, “I can see you down in the yard.”

He bit back a laugh. “You stand there looking extremely lost.”

 

“I am,” Soma confessed, huffing a breath. He craned his head, trying to figure out which window was Arshad‘s.

 

“Come on up,” the white-haired man said into the phone, “Take the front door. Third floor, far left is my door. Don‘t ring, just knock and I’ll open up.”

 

Said and done. Soma was surprised that he found the apartment rather easily. Like he‘d been instructed, he didn’t ring the bell but simply knocked.

And it didn’t take long until Arshad opened up. He wore only a plain black shirt, which hung loosely on his frame. Soma didn’t want to know if he wore boxers underneath or didn’t.

“Welcome,” was the only thing that escaped the older man before he stepped back and re-entered his flat. Soma started, but soon followed after him, shutting the door behind himself.

 

“Your flat’s so clean,” the teen murmured to himself. The living room was decorated in saffron and earthy tones, long curtains dimming the sunlight. An old black leather couch stood in front of a flat screen, which towered above piled up boxes.

Perhaps ‘clean’ was the wrong word. Old newspapers lay spread out all over the floor, years of smoking had dyed the white walls a nasty shade of yellow and unsmoked cigarettes lined the couch table. But still, it was way cleaner than what Soma had expected.

“You know, if your plan is to just bicker about everything I do and am, you’re very much welcomed to leave.” Arshad had re-appeared with a bowl in hand and was now standing in front of Soma.

“Sorry,” was all the teen answered.

Arshad nodded slowly. It seemed like he was processing the word. “Come on,” he said and gestured for Soma to follow him. He did and Arshad led him to a room at the end of the hallway. The room had plain white walls and was, expect for a not-made bed, unfurnished.

“This is gonna be your room,” Arshad explained, “Feel free to use it to your liking.”

Soma shot him a glance. It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful or happy, it was simply that he couldn’t fathom a reason why the white-haired man was doing this.

Arshad noticed his look. “What?”

“Why are you doin’ this, anyways?” Soma asked what was on his mind. He got not real answer but a simple shrug from Arshad and that was all there was to it.

“Dinner’s in an hour,” the older announced before leaving Soma alone in the room.

“I already ate,” the teen answered.

“Your bad.”

Smiling, Soma shook his head. Perhaps he didn’t even need a reason. Perhaps he didn’t even want one. His temporary stay wasn’t a promise that things were going to work out, but it was a chance he got to try.


	3. Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Halsey - Colors

 

> **_Everything is grey_ **
> 
> **_His hair, his smoke, his dreams_ **
> 
> **_And now he's so devoid of color_ **
> 
> **_He don’t know what it means_ **
> 
> ****
> 
> **_\- Halsey - Colors_ **
> 
>  

After unpacking the few things Soma had taken with him (some pajamas, his school uniform, some spare clothes and his toothbrush), he’d asked Arshad if he could take a shower. The man had nothing against it, and now the teen turned off the shower. He grabbed the towel he’d fetched out of the cupboard, while stepping out of the shower.

Arshad’s bathroom was extremely organized. It was a little terrifying. All the after shave bottles on the shelf were arranged by color, the shaver stood in its holder. The towels in the cupboard had been neatly folded. Soma quickly put his still damp hair into a ponytail, before leaving the bathroom and entering the living room, where Arshad sat on a cushion on the floor and was obviously watching the news.

On the couch table stood several bowls, most of them filled with Indian food. A tray was filled with Naan.

“Do you have OCD?” Soma asked, sitting down on the couch and grabbing a plate. He began to fill his plate, grabbing some slices of the Naan and smelled it.

Arshad turned around to him. He already had a bowl in hand. “No?” came his answer.

“I just thought.” Soma shrugged. “Your bathroom being so extremely organized and all.”

“No, I don’t,” Arshad repeated himself, “Made yourself at home yet?”

The teen nodded. He hadn’t yet made his bed, but he’d already filled the small closet with his few belongings. “I’m gonna bring more stuff over tomorrow,” he answered.

Arshad crooked a brow, but his attention was back to the news. “Ain’t nobody gonna notice?”

“Guess not,” Soma answered. He was also looking at the TV now. Though there wasn’t anything in the news he hadn’t heard already. With the elections coming up, the whole country was awfully busy. And seemingly busy enough to forget the scandal of his father.

“Well then,” Arshad exclaimed, “I’m gonna take you there tomorrow.”

That seemed to satisfy the teen. They didn’t talk much that evening. An occasional comment regarding the news or the food was all they spoke.

And so it actually didn’t take long for Soma to decide that he’d be going to bed.

“I’m tired!” was all he said to declare that he, in fact, was going to sleep. Arshad turned down the volume of the TV and strained his neck to look at the teen. “Already?”

“Did you wanna pull an all-nighter with me?”

“What? No.” Arshad really looked more confused than anything. It was kind of cute.

Soma couldn’t help himself. He just had to make that joke. “Oh, so you wanted to spend the night _that way_. Well, guess that can be arranged. And don’t worry, I won’t tell the police.”

His acquaintance’s face turned a bright scarlet red. Soma didn’t know if that meant that he in fact _had_ intended to spend the night like that, or the mere fact that Arshad was a grown man who was uncomfortable with sex talk.

“Okay, okay, sorry,” Soma murmured in-between laughing fits, “I’ll just…I, uh, I’m gonna go to bed. Night.”

“Hey.”

Surprised, Soma turned around. “What?”

Without looking at him, Arshad said, “You need somethin’, you call me.”

A little perplexed, the teen nodded. “Sure,” he said.

 

That night, sleep just wouldn’t come to Soma. No matter how hard he tried, his lids were heavy and his yawns didn’t stop, but he couldn’t fall asleep. When the bedside clock told him that it was already past midnight, he gave up and turned on his back.

Arshad had tried his best to make it feel like home. But Soma couldn’t help and think of his brothers, Mohini – of his mother. Sighing, he set up and wiped the sweat from his forehead. It wasn’t even particularly warm. Still, Soma was sweating. His shirt almost drenched.

He swung his legs out of bed. _You need somethin’, you call me_ he’d said.

 _He was probably referring to material things. Not a pep talk_ , Soma thought. But still, could it really hurt to just ask him? Even though Arshad was most likely fast asleep by now.

Soma decided to get a glass of water. That was step one. He’d see what came after that. So he got up, quietly (or as quietly as possible) opened the door to his room and strode down the hallway till he reached the kitchen. One thing he’d found when entering Arshad’s flat this afternoon was that every single room stunk of cigarettes. Except for his guest room.

He knew that Arshad was a chain smoker. He’d never liked, but accepted it. But nevertheless, Arshad had always been considerate of the younger. He’d rarely smoke around Soma.

Taking a gulp from his glass and then setting it down, Soma went back into the hallway. Not daring to turn on the lights, he made his way to Arshad’s room, put his hand on the door handle and gently pushed it down.

“Arshad?”

Nothing moved. Understandably enough, since Soma’s voice hadn’t been really loud.

“Arshad?” This time, he spoke a bit louder. And this time, something stirred underneath the blanket.

Though “Mh?” was the only sound that left the other’s mouth, Soma felt more encouraged and entered the room. He closed the door behind him and – froze. What was he supposed to do now?

“Hey, Arshad?” he whispered. The man stirred and suddenly the blanket moved. Arshad set up, lazily turning on his bedside lamp.

“Kadar? Hey, what’s wrong? It’s the middle of the night?!”

Suddenly, Soma wasn’t as sure about this as he’d been before. “Sorry. A-And I know. But I…I just…I…I’m sorry, I’ll go back to sleep now, it was stupid to wake you, sorry.”

He had already turned around to leave the room, when Arshad held him back. “Kadar.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” Soma finally said, “It’s not that I don’t feel comfortable I…To be honest, I don’t know what’s wrong.”

He wasn’t sure whether he’d heard correctly when Arshad asked him, “Do you want to sleep here?”

And he surely hadn’t thought that _here_ really meant _here_ as in, Arshad’s bed.

“Would it be alright?”

“Oh, stop being all that formal after you literally ripped me from my sleep. Just come over here and be quiet.” Almost like an after-thought, he added, “And don’t have any naughty thoughts.”

Soma would have smiled, if it weren’t for the fact that he was extremely tired and suddenly really exhausted. So he simply came over to the bed and slipped under the blanket.

Arshad turned the light back off and seemingly didn’t pay much attention to the young teen who now shared a bed with him. Soma figured that his acquaintance was just too tired to care. _So_ , the teen wondered, _would he care if I…put my arms…?_

“Don’t even dare.”

Soma startled upon hearing the other’s voice. Confused, he asked, “Dare what?”

“You were gonna put your arms around me, weren’t ya?”

Soma lifted a brow, though knowing that Arshad couldn’t see it. “What? You reading minds now?”

With a groan, Arshad turned around to look at the purple-haired boy. They couldn’t see each other properly in the darkness of the room, but Soma had the faint feeling that Arshad’s face was a mix of furor and amusement.

“No, I can’t,” he finally answered. He stretched out his arm and carefully touched the hand that Soma had left hanging in the air. “But…You know, you sometimes move without thinking. It’s like your body has a different mind. You kinda need to get a grip on that, prince.”

The teen didn’t know whether to be angry at this or just stare at the white-haired man perplexedly. In the end, he scrunched his nose at the familiar nickname. “You promised to stop calling me that!”

He pulled his hand free from Arshad’s grip – though he had to admit he’d rather liked it – and turned his back on him.

Arshad didn’t apologize for the nickname he used. Instead, he did something Soma hadn’t thought he would. He slowly put his arms around the teen and pulled him against his chest.

“It’s only for tonight,” Arshad mumbled into his violet ponytail, “Besides, it’s way easier to strangle you in this position. And you’re not able to try anything naughty.”

Soma laughed wholeheartedly. “Yeah, you’re right. What a shame though – _ouch._ ”

Arshad had slapped him on the back. “Sleep. My patience’s through with you.”

“Alright,” Soma smiled, “Love you.”

“Yeah, lo-… _Kadar_.”

But the teen was already fast asleep.


	4. Ruin the Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demi Lovato - Ruin the Friendship  
> (The lyrics really kinda fit this chap. So, if you're interested, have a listen.)

 

> **_You're only brave in the moonlight_ **
> 
> **_So why don't you stay till sunrise_ **
> 
> ****
> 
> **_\- Demi Lovato – Ruin the Friendship_ **
> 
>  

Soma felt a warm hand between his legs, carefully stroking him. The teen squirmed, hot puffs of breath leaving his mouth, before a second hand came up to cover it.

“Didn’t I tell you not to move?” Arshad towered above him, his long, white hair falling down like a curtain, enveloping Soma. He was just too beautiful to look at. He couldn’t pull himself together and look away. He couldn’t bring himself to not focus on the hand between his legs, driving him crazy.

 

With a jolt, Soma awoke. He was sweating and heavily breathing. It took him a while to remember where he was, to remember that he’d shared Arshad’s bed. Upon realizing this, he turned around to look at the white-haired man he thought was still asleep. But Arshad was fully awake, grinning at the purple-haired teen.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” he asked and Soma couldn’t shake off the feeling that the older one definitely knew what he’d dreamed about. Ugh, Soma wanted to drop dead.

“Yeah…Fine. Actually, I have to thank you. So…Thanks.”

Arshad seemed a little taken aback by this, but soon his grin turned into a smile. “Sure, no problem.”

An awkward silence settled between them and so Soma decided that it was time to get up. Tripping over an ash tray and fell back onto the bed. Huffing, he blew a lock of hair away. Listening to Arshad’s laughter, he decided not to get too worked up about it.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you’re kinda cute?”

When Soma glanced up, Arshad stood at his side of the bed (wait, when had it become _his side of the bed_?), looking down at him. “You wouldn’t believe how often,” Soma retorted, ignoring the hand Arshad was offering him and instead getting up himself.

“You said you were gonna take me home today, yes? There are some things I really need here.”

Arshad lifted a brow as Soma opened the door and strode out into the hallway. “What? Like, beauty products? I’m sure you could just buy them at the drug store around the corner.”

“No. Like, personal things.” Before disappearing into the guest room, the teen turned around and said, “Don’t ask, just take me there.”

 

“You want me to _ride on that thing_?”

The _thing_ that Soma seemed to be pretty much terrified of was a motorbike standing in one of the garages that lined the yard. Arshad had just tossed him a helmet, already ready to go.

“Yeah? Either do it my way or do it on your own.” Arshad shook his head. “Really, do they teach you anything? It’s perfectly safe on a bike.”

Soma lifted a brow. “Yeah, right,” he said slowly, “Do you even have a license?”

Despite still doubting that this was the right thing to do, the teen sat down behind the white-haired man. Said one turned around to glance at him. “Who needs those anyway?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Hold onto me. Otherwise you’ll fall,” was all that Arshad said, before he started his bike and took off.

 

The man let loose a whistle. “You never told me just _how_ rich you were.”

“It’s ‘cuz you never asked.” Soma had to admit that he felt a little dizzy after this ride. The whole way he’d been screaming at Arshad to slow down, to mind the speed limit. But he just hadn’t listened. Or he simply didn’t care. Or he wanted to give the teen a heart attack. One of those options.

Soma sighed heavily, putting off the helmet. He removed his hair tie to let his violet hair flow freely across his shoulders. But he didn’t catch Arshad’s marveling gaze as he stared at the teen.

“Besides,” said one now spoke and gained the man’s attention, “It’s not me who’s rich but my father. I’d prefer being poor over being his son.”

This being said, he put the helmet down on the motorbike and entered the house. Arshad hurried to follow him.

Inside it didn’t look any different from yesterday. Broken glasses and vases covered the floor, dried up liquor adorned the walls. Soma swallowed and stepped into the mess.

Arshad followed shortly after. He wasn’t paying attention to the expensive furniture or the elaborate banister. It was Soma who mattered in this moment. Not the rich CEO kid everyone seemed to know or acted like they knew, but Soma. That broken, 17-year-old boy who sought him out because he needed help.

“Hey,” he said, putting a hand on Soma’s shoulder, “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” Soma brushed it off, casually re-tying his ponytail. Once he was done, he pointed at the staircase that led to the upper floor. “My room’s up there. Let’s just hurry up, shan’t we?”

Arshad lifted a brow. “Nobody talks like that.”

“I do,” Soma retorted, “Get your ass up here, handsome.”

“My, my.”

At the sound of that voice, Soma stopped and turned around. Old Mohini stood at the foot of the staircase. She grinned at the two men, of whom Arshad looked slightly disturbed. “We were worried, Soma. Where you’ve been?”

Obviously relieved, Soma sighed deeply. “Mohini, you scared the hell outta me.” He pointed at Arshad, who lifted the hand as a greeting. “I’m staying with Arshad. For a while, at the very least.”

Mohini didn’t say anything. Instead, she simply nodded. “Well then, off you go. Better hurry before your father gets home. He was in a bad mood when he left.”

Soma already made his way up the stairs and Arshad thought he’d heard something along the lines of “When isn’t he?”.

 

“Your room’s fancy,” was the only thing that escaped Arshad. Because, to be frank, _fancy_ was a real understatement. The white-haired man was sure that the blanket’s value was as much as his salary. If not more. And he wouldn’t even start talking about the furniture. (And was that a chandelier on the ceiling?)

“Thanks,” Soma murmured, meanwhile going through the drawers of his dresser and seemingly randomly putting stuff into a suitcase. “Can you fetch me some stuff from the bathroom?”

“Sure,” Arshad answered, maybe because he thought a No would only upset the teen. “What do ya need?”

“There’s a green basket next to the sink. Just bring it here.”

“Yeah, alright.”

Soma pointed in the general direction of the bathroom and Arshad found it. Though he had to admit he was rather jealous. A bathroom that had a direct connection to the bedroom felt like a dream.

 _Maybe he_ is _kinda spoiled_ , Arshad thought. He immediately found the green basket Soma had asked for and quickly wanted to bring it to the teen. But something in front of the mirror caught his attention. It was a little, seemingly ordinary bottle. The only thing odd about it was a little sign that read _For when it gets worse_.

He decided to take it with him and confront the teen about it. Once he found the right situation, that is.

“Here, found it,” he announced when he re-entered Soma’s bedroom. When hearing that, the teen spun around and wanted to take the box from Arshad, but both were too fast and suddenly – they hadn’t even seen it coming – they lay on the bed. Arshad, sprawled out on top of Soma, who looked like he was trying to win a redness contest against a tomato.

Arshad knew that, in this position, he should ask something like _Are you okay?_ but no sound would leave his lips. He was paralyzed. He could do nothing else than staring at Soma.

Said one slowly out-stretched a hand to caress Arshad’s white locks.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his voice a barely audible breath.

Arshad didn’t know how to respond to this. He could say something like _You too_. He could, if only his mind would form some damn words. But he couldn’t speak. So all he could do was carefully touch the cheek of the teen and stroke it gently.

Soma trembled. His body didn’t listen to his commands anymore. His mind had gone blank.

Now, Arshad leaned down and pressed his lips to Soma’s. And suddenly, the time seemed to stand still.

Soma thought about whether he should put his hands on Arshad’s back. About whether he should move at all, but he decided to remain still.

Arshad’s mouth was burning hot. But it was a nice kind of hot. That kind that made you feel at ease, the kind that can tell you, that, what you’re doing, is totally okay.

So he put his arms around the older man and pressed his chest against his.

“Arshad,” a low moan escaped him and Arshad couldn’t help but pull away. Because, suddenly, he’d realized what he’d done. And he got scared. Because he shouldn’t have done this.

But then, looking at the teen, all his worries melted away.

Soma smiled, utter trust reflecting in his golden eyes. In those most beautiful, golden eyes he’s ever seen.

“You sure you want this?” he asked, breathlessly, because that’s what the teen is doing to him – he leaves him breathless.

But Soma didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled Arshad back down and leaned in for another kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn boy, never thought I'd write something like this. Anyways, it was good practice (practice for what exactly?) and I really wanted to write something like this. So, yeah, guess I'm kind of proud. You probably noticed why the title fits this chap, hm?


	5. Tell Me You Love Me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Demi Lovato - Tell Me You Love Me

> **_Oh, tell me you love me_ **
> 
> **_I need someone on days like this, I do_ **
> 
> ****
> 
> **_\- Demi Lovato – Tell Me You Love Me_ **
> 
>  

Soma couldn’t help the moans escaping him. Arshad was still passionately kissing him, only that by now, the hands of the white-haired man were roaming his body. The teen was helplessly trying to cling onto something, anything. Something that made him feel as though he weren’t falling, because that was what he felt like at the moment – as if he were falling in space, with nothing to hold onto.

As if he noticed that something was wrong, Arshad let go of the teen’s lips, pressing his forehead against Soma’s. “If you want me to stop, you have to say so. Otherwise I’ll just go on.”

“But I don’t want you to stop,” Soma breathed, “I _want_ you to go on.”

Arshad didn’t want to hear much more and instantly resumed the kiss. It didn’t take long for his hands to find the button of Soma’s trousers.

Just in that moment, accompanied by a loud crash, the room’s door opened. With a loud yelp of Soma, the two men jumped apart. The teen quickly fixed his clothes before he dared taking a look at the intruder.

“Wow, you got yourself a cute girlfriend!” At those words, Arshad lifted his head and seemingly startled the unwanted guest, who let loose a shriek. “You’re a man!”

Arshad sighed deeply, running a hand through his ruffled white hair. “Oh, really?”

“Ranjit!” Soma screeched, obviously recognizing the intruder.

It was his one year older brother, Ranjit. The only one of his brothers he actually liked. Ranjit was the only one who even cared what Soma did. It was the only thing that showed that Ranjit was the older one, and not Soma. Because Soma always had to care for his older brother.

“Yo,” Ranjit grinned.

“Hurry up and close the door, dammit,” Soma snarled.

Ranjit obeyed, quickly stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. However, he didn’t give the two men a chance to compose themselves. “How long you’ve been knowing each other, hm?” he asked, still smiling and now even sitting down on the bed.

Arshad visibly moved away from Soma. “Don’t I get no introduction?”

The teen had his head in his hands, seemingly frustrated. “Arshad, meet Ranjit. He’s the 25th son, one year older than me.” Tiredly, he lifted his gaze to glance at his brother. “Ranjit, meet Arshad.”

“Your boyfriend?” Ranjit guessed, extending his hand for a handshake. Arshad shook it hesitantly.

“He isn’t…” Soma started, but he didn’t try explaining himself.

Ranjit appeared to have a lot on his mind and even more that he wanted to say. But his thoughts were interrupted when the three of them heard the front door close.

“Shit, it’s dad,” Ranjit murmured and quickly got up, almost as if to make room for the other two. “You should probably hurry if you wanna get out of here alive.”

Soma nodded slowly. “Yeah, guess we should.” Sighing, he got up and threw a few random things from the green bathroom-box into his suitcase, before he closed it.

Meanwhile, Ranjit was already at the door, halfway out of the room. “I’ll try and distract dad. Just…get outta here, alright?”

 

With Ranjit’s help it had been rather easy to get out of that house unnoticed. Soma hadn’t really wanted to say Goodbye to anyone, because to him, it didn’t feel like a Goodbye. It felt like a new start. Like something that should have happened way earlier in his life.

After a pretty difficult way home (Soma almost dropped the suitcase during the ride), Arshad decided that he was going to go get something for dinner. “You know, so you can make yourself at home.” Arshad didn’t want to admit that he actually just wanted to escape the awkward atmosphere surrounding the two. Soma hadn’t talked to him after they’d left his house and on the ride back home, Arshad had grown nervous. Was the teen angry? He could definitely understand it.

He shouldn’t have…The man grit his teeth, clenching his hands.

“I’m sorry, all right? I shouldn’t have kissed you. I know that and all, but…”

He stopped speaking when Soma turned around to face him. “Hey, no need to apologize. I’m happy that we…that you…” The teen bit his tongue. “Did it mean anything?”

The two looked at each other for a while. Neither really knew what to say. At last, Arshad turned around, already reaching for the handle of the front door. “I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, before leaving the flat.

 

Soma was left alone with his thoughts. He didn’t know whether he was angry at the older for simply leaving or if he was perhaps a little relieved. Had it meant anything _to himself_? Sure, Soma had felt thousands of things when he’d kissed Arshad, but had it been love? Or the simple feeling you had when you experienced your first kiss?

He unpacked his belongings, stuffing them in to the closet of his guest room, silently wondering how he should face Arshad once he returned. Should he apologize? But for what exactly?

It had been Arshad who’d kissed him! So why should _he_ apologize?

Once he’d finished unpacking, he grabbed a plain back T-shirt and decided to change clothes. So, dressed in nothing but the shirt and his briefs, he made himself comfortable on the couch and patiently waited for the white-haired man to return.

 

And when Arshad did, he found a sleeping teen on his couch, the TV still playing in the background. He couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Soma was really just too adorable.

It was totally different than this morning. When they’d laid on his bed, the teen had seemed rather enticing. And though Arshad had known that it was wrong, he couldn’t had helped himself. Soma had just been way too beautiful. But now, the way he lay stretched out on Arshad’s couch, silently snoring, the man didn’t find him alluring, as much as simply cute.

He sat down the groceries, careful not to wake the teen and then set to work. Cooking had always been a way of relaxing for him. A healthier way than smoking, anyways.

Though he’d tried not to cook. He’d tried so hard, because it reminded him of all which he’d left behind. It reminded him of every single damn thing that he didn’t want to be reminded of.

A quiet stretching sound got his attention. Surprised, he glanced in the direction of the couch, where the teen was most obviously not asleep anymore. In fact, he was watching Arshad, and, as their gazes met, he smiled at him.

“Smells good,” Soma smiled, “What you doing?”

“Cooking,” Arshad answered, caught a little off-guard. “Uh, cooking curry, I mean,” he quickly added, “I just assumed you’d like it.”

“I do,” Soma nodded. He got up and came over to the white-haired man. “Can I help you?”

Arshad shook his head. “No, not really. I…I prefer cooking on my own, sorry.”

“Yeah, sure, no prob.” Almost like in defense, he lifted his hands, taking a step back. “I’ll just watch you then,” Soma decided and sat down on one of the kitchen chairs.

Arshad smiled, resuming his cooking.

Just when he was turning relieved that the teen had let go of the kiss topic, said one picked it up again. “Are you angry at me?”

“Why should I be?” Arshad asked, not looking at the teen, who was rolling an apple over the countertop.

“Because of the kiss,” he answered, “I mean, I know _you_ kissed _me_ and actually you should be the one apologizing, but I’m just so scared that it ruined something – anything. Us, I mean. That it ruined us and…”

Arshad, whose face was now suddenly right in front of Soma’s, cut him off. “Hey. That kiss ruined _nothing_. You’re right, it was my fault. But I…I kinda…don’t really regret it, ‘kay?”

“Phew,” Soma let loose a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, “That’s a relief.”

With that, the conversation seemed pretty much over for Arshad. He got back to cooking, not really caring what the teen did and instead focusing on chopping up the vegetables.

But for Soma, it was almost like an invitation. Carefully, he got up and wrapped his arms around the taller one. Arshad almost dropped the knife, too stunned to speak. “Don’t we wanna carry on from where we left off?” Soma whispered seductively.

“I’d love to,” Arshad replied hoarsely, “But…”

“No buts.” Soma’s fingers danced to Arshad’s front, carefully opening his belt. “Please?”

 _Be damned_ , the older one thought. His whole body was betraying him, the knife suddenly trembling in his grip. How could a teen make him swoon? “Soma, really, you shouldn’t do that,” he said through gritted teeth, “It’s just not right.”

“ _Please._ ” Soma was begging now. And Arshad came to realize that he probably shouldn’t have kissed him. That he should have waited this damned year, till the teen finally turned 18. Until he couldn’t be charged with child assault. Until this wasn’t illegal anymore.

He probably shouldn’t have done anything. Because the sad truth was, that there was only one way back now.

“Dammit, Kadar, when will you understand?” Arshad was surprised at himself. He hadn’t intended to sound that pissed. But here he was. He had to do this. There was no going back.

“Understand what?” Dammit, Soma sounded so hurt. He didn’t want this. He really didn’t…

“That we shouldn’t do this. You’re 17, for God’s sake. It may be true that I kissed you. And hell, I don’t even regret it. But going any further than that _is just not possible_ , get it?”

Soma let go of Arshad as if he’d been burned. Shocked, he stepped back, giving the white-haired man enough space to turn around. “You…don’t…love me?”

“ _Love you?! Love_ you?!” Arshad almost screamed. “Hell, Kadar, _look at me_. I’m the last person in the world you want to fall in love with you! You should not even talk to me. I’m that kind of person.”

“But…But I love you,” Soma replied. His voice had turned hoarse. Not from desire, but from the lump in his throat. Tears sparkled at the corner of his eyes.

“You _don’t_ love me,” Arshad answered, now a little less furious, “You just happen to mistake the first spark of attention you ever got for love.”

That did it. To Soma, it felt like he’d been punched. He couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, they ran down his cheeks unashamedly.

Arshad set down the knife, out-stretching a hand to touch Soma’s cheek. “You don’t know the first thing about love.” But Soma pulled away, before Arshad’s hand could reach him.

The teen ripped the scrunchie from his hair, throwing it at the white-haired man. He wanted to throw something bigger, something heavier at him.

He hated him. He hated him. He wanted him to die. “You’re a monster. You really are.”

And with that, he turned around and left.


	6. Let's not Fall in Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big Bang - Let's not Fall in Love

> **_Let’s not fall in love, we don’t know each other very well yet_ **
> 
> **_Actually, I’m a little scared, I’m sorry_ **
> 
> ****
> 
> **_-  BIGBANG – Let’s not Fall in Love_ **
> 
>  

When he felt the mattress move, Arshad opened his eyes. The moonlight shone through the crack between the curtains, dyeing the room a divine color. Soma lay next to him, dressed in nothing but a white shirt, the first few buttons undone, revealing his delicious collarbone. Arshad wanted to kiss it. To reach out and touch the teen’s soft skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, something he had been meaning to say for ages.

The golden eyes of the teen lit up as he smiled, his purple, wavy hair spread out on the mattress. He looked so tranquil. “Thanks,” Soma answered, reaching out to interlace his fingers with Arshad’s.

The white-haired man closed his eyes, a soft smile forming on his lips.

“Arshad?”

“Yeah?” came his sleepy reply.

“What would you do if I were to tell you I love you?” Soma asked. His voice was soft, confident. It didn’t sound like he was confessing his love, but rather like he was simply curious.

Still keeping his eyes shut, Arshad answered, “I’d tell you that I’m a man.”

“And I’d tell you it doesn’t matter.”

Arshad sighed. “And I’d tell you it does.”

He felt soft lips on his hand, gently kissing it. “I could prove to you that it doesn’t.”

The white-haired man smiled, now opening his eyes and stroking some of Soma’s hair back behind his ear. “You want to?”

Those were the last words said, before Soma leaned in and closed the distance between them.

 

The ringing of his alarm clock ripped Arshad from his sleep. A little disturbed by the dream he just had, the man sat up, turning off the alarm. Arshad gently rubbed his eyes. He didn’t want to get up. He didn’t want to have to face the teen whose heart he’d broken yesterday. Soma was totally allowed to hate him now. But still, he was afraid of it.

Biting his tongue, he got up, carefully making his way to the door. Stepping out into the hallway, he heard noises coming from the bathroom, indicating that Soma was already awake.

So Arshad simply put his long, white hair into a messy bun and put on a pair of jeans, before he made his way into the kitchen. The leftovers of yesterday’s dinner were spread out all over the kitchen table and it appeared that Soma already had had breakfast. Arshad grabbed a bowl, carelessly pouring cereals and milk into it. How would he ever be able to face the teen again?

Arshad sat down at the table, one hand holding the spoon, the other hand fisted in his hair. He listened to the sound of the bathroom door opening and Soma stepping out of it.

Though he didn’t want to, Arshad got up and went out into the hallway. “Hey, Kadar.”

Soma didn’t listen. He didn’t bother with turning around to look at Arshad. Why should he?

Instead, he put his hand on the door handle and made to leave the flat. “I have practice today. I’m gonna be home late. Don’t wait for me.”

With that, the door closed and Arshad was left alone. Sighing, he put the rest of his cereals into the trash bin and forced himself to enter the bathroom.

Everything was still in place. It appeared that Soma had really taken care not to disturb any of Arshad’s system. The used towel was cleanly folded and lay on the table that Arshad put all his used towels on. Sighing, he decided for a quick wash, because, he was sure of it, if he were going to take a shower, he was going to shed a tear or two.

 

“Psst, hey, Kadar.”

Sighing, Soma turned around in his seat. Behind him sat Cheslock, who’d been trying to get his attention for the last half an hour. “What is it?” Soma asked, quietly, so as not to get caught by the teacher.

“You alright? You’re usually a lot faster,” Cheslock casually remarked, before asking his question, “Which page are we on?”

Soma leaned over his friend’s table to open the textbook on the right page. “Here. Seriously, must you always sleep in class?”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Cheslock replied, taking the textbook from Soma.

Soma looked out the window, leaning back in his chair.

He had always thought that sitting by the window was a huge advantage. Once the lesson got too boring – which happened rather often – he’d just watch the students out on the school yard. Of course, sitting next to a window was rather uncomfortable in winter, but that wasn’t enough reason to move his seat.

Sitting in front of Cheslock hadn’t been his first choice. He liked him, but Cheslock was paying even less attention in class and things like asking which page they were on was totally normal for him.

Since their school had classes that were gender-segregated, Soma’s whole class was full of boys. Cheslock had once jokingly mentioned that that was probably going to turn them all gay, to which Edward cheerily answered that he in fact had a girlfriend. (Which he broke up with two weeks later.)

Soma had nothing against being in an all-boys class. He had to be fair and say that he didn’t care much about school anyway. School had always been his way of escaping day-to-day life. But now, this escape seems to have lost its meaning. Having Arshad around all day would surely get hard sometime very soon.

The bell rang, freeing the students from the lesson. Soma stretched, glancing out the window. Clayton, coming to stand beside his table, caught his attention. “What is it?”

“The others wanted to order pizza,” Clayton answered. In that moment, Soma noticed Edward that stood next to the black-haired student, waving a flyer around.

“You want some?” Edward asked him.

Soma hadn’t noticed the time. He had been so lost in his thoughts, that he hadn’t noticed the clock striking lunch time. Deciding that he would have plenty of time fretting over Arshad, he nodded.

“Sure.”

It wasn’t often that Soma just lazily hung out with his friends. Though he loved them, he’d always preferred to spend lunch time on his own or with Arshad. But now, lounging around on the stands of the football pitch, making bad jokes, talking about little nothings and eating pizza, he found that he should have done this more often. It helped getting his mind off of things.

With a little bit of dismay, Soma overheard the conversation slowly turning to a talk about girlfriends and first times. Sighing, he grabbed his cola, pretending to be paying attention to the freshmen playing football.

“Hey, Kadar.” Soma turned his head to look at Edward, who’d thrown an empty wrapping at him.

“What?” The teen asked, sounding more than annoyed.

“You ever did anything?” Cheslock took the place of Edward in asking the question. And this question obviously caught Soma off-guard. He couldn’t help his mind reeling back to the experience he’d had with Arshad in his room. Did that count? Even if nothing much came afterwards, even if Arshad had just pushed him away – did it count?

“Look at him all burning up, that guy has some serious backstory,” Cheslock laughed. Clayton, sitting next to him, slapped him with a notebook. “Be quiet.”

Soma quickly turned his head, trying to cover his tomato-red cheeks. “Nothing happened, guys. I’m serious.”

It seemed like the others were going to ask him out, but luckily distraction came just in time. Harcourt came running up to them and the others quickly dropped the topic. Everybody viewed Harcourt as their little brother. Nobody would dare talking about such things in front of him.

“You’re quite late,” Clayton said, directed at their younger friend who now sat down next to them.

“Yes, I know. The Literature Club held a meeting.” He looked at the left-overs longingly. “Did you save anything for me?”

Edward was about to apologize with a timid ‘No’, as Soma quickly handed Harcourt his cheese sandwich. “Here. Eat up.”

Harcourt shot him a disbelieving look. Soma was pretty sure that Harcourt had known they wouldn’t save anything for him and now was surprised they actually did. (Nobody was going to tell him that they had actually eaten the pizza which they had ordered for Harcourt.)

“Thank you!”

The other three looked confused and somewhat surprised, but didn’t actually admit it.

“Do you have any plans for this weekend?” Edward randomly asked.

“Why?” Clayton replied, not looking up from his novel. And Soma asked at the same time, his mouth still filled with food, “What’s up?”

“Band practice,” Cheslock replied casually.

Soma and Clayton groaned in union. “You still trying to hook us up?” the Indian murmured, “You’ve been trying this for weeks now.”

“Oh come on, guys. What’s so bad about wanting to start a band?” Cheslock whined.

Now Harcourt seemed to perk up. Maybe he’d simply gotten curious, Soma thought. “You proposed this idea to the headmaster, didn’t you? What did he say?”

Cheslock lay down on his back, blowing a bubble with his gum, before answering. “He said that this school doesn’t need a band, but encourages me to play in one in my free time.”

“See? Even the headmaster’s against your idea,” Soma laughed.

They spent the rest of their lunch time like that, just talking about random teenager things. And Soma was perfectly fine with it.


	7. Santa Monica Dream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angus and Julia Stone - Santa Monica Dream

> **_Goodbye to my Santa Monica dream_ **
> 
> **_Fifteen kids in the backyard drinking wine_ **
> 
> **_You will tell me stories of the sea_ **
> 
> **_And the ones you left behind_ **
> 
> ****
> 
> **_\- Angus and Julia Stone – Santa Monica Dream_ **
> 
>  

Arshad sighed. This day was going to be a lot more boring than he imagined. He had thought that there’d be tons and thousands of things he had to do. But he had finished these tasks in a mere hour.

And now, he sat in his office in silence, trying to make up new things he could occupy himself with.

Sadly, he had already arranged the syringes last week. And there were no new deliveries of medicines today. He was basically done and all that was left for him, was to sit around and wait for a student to come by and ask him for his help. Of course Arshad didn’t want that the students got hurt, but on days like these, he couldn’t help but wish for a little more action and distraction. But instead of continuing his sulking, he grabbed his book and simply started reading.

Just when he thought this was how his day was going to be, the door opened with a bang and the blond prefect Redmond stood in the doorframe. He was panting, sweat dripping down the side of his face.

Arshad put away his book, hesitantly inserting a bookmark. “Redmond?” he asked, the name feeling strange on his tongue. He’d never actually called the prefect by his name. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kadar,” Redmond panted, “He broke down in the cricket practice. He was hyper-…”

The blond didn’t have to say much more. Arshad jumped out of his seat, grabbing his doctor’s kit and storming out of the infirmary, the prefect close behind him.

 

When they reached the cricket ground, Arshad spotted the young teen lying on the ground. His purple tresses were spread out around the head and made him look almost calm – serene, if it weren’t for the sweat dripping down his forehead or the blood on his lips. He was still moving, squirming in pain. The white-haired man kneeled down next to Soma, carefully cradling his head in his lap. “What happened?” he asked, not looking up to the other players that formed a circle around them.

“I-I don’t know,” Greenhill confessed, “I mean, _we_ don’t know. He was about to bat the ball when he suddenly broke down. He screamed and then panted and…”

“And then he was already coughing blood and trembling like hell,” Cheslock continued.

Arshad couldn’t deny it. He had never felt fear in all the years that he had worked as a nurse. The reason he hadn’t wanted to become a doctor was exactly this. He didn’t have the nerves for it and he had always known. Working as a nurse wasn’t a problem. But it was when you knew you couldn’t help. When you knew that a long medical study could perhaps have prepared you for this.

When he grabbed for the doctor’s kit, his hands were shaking so badly he could barely move them.

“Call an ambulance,” he said, his voice surprisingly strong.

“But…,” one of the students argued, but Arshad strongly shook his head.

“No buts. Do it. _Now._ ”

Some of the students rushed off, going to get the mobiles they’d left in their bags. This left Arshad some more space, but it didn’t help to reduce his anxiety. He was still a trembling mess. He had started to sweat. He didn’t know whether it was because of the weather or because of the situation.

The man snapped out of it when he felt a soft, yet cold, hand gently touching his cheek. As he adjusted his gaze, he found that Soma had opened his eyes and was looking at him with a somewhat hazy expression on his face. He was still panting, obviously in pain.

“Hey, don’t look so scared,” he whispered, wiping away a silent tear that crept down the older one’s cheek.

“How couldn’t I?” Arshad answered, “You drank from this fucking vial, didn’t you?”

Soma lifted a brow. At least Arshad guessed it was what the teen was trying to do, but failed. “How do you know?”

“Just answer me. And do it quickly.”

Hesitantly, Soma nodded. “Yeah. I did. Just a gulp, though.”

This time, Arshad was sure he was trembling from fear. “How could you?! What’s in this vial anyways? Bleach again?”

Soma shook his head. “No. Honestly, I don’t remember. It’s been so long that I filled this vial. I nearly forgot it about.”

Arshad leaned down, tears streaming down his cheeks. Carefully, he pressed his forehead against the younger one’s. “I hate you. I really fucking hate you.”

“No need to put emphasis on that.”

Just when Arshad was about to comment on that, the students came running back, announcing that they’d called the ambulance. Arshad cradled Soma’s head even closer, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Please hang in there.”

 

It had been two hours when the door of the ICU finally opened and a nurse stepped out of it. Arshad nearly jumped at her, but all she did was to take a very long look at him. “And you are?”

“Arshad Iyer,” he answered, his gaze sticking to the door behind the nurse.

“Are you related to the patient?” she asked, pressing the clipboard against her chest. “A parent, a sibling – related by blood or marriage?”

This phrase made him focus back on the woman in front of him. “No,” he answered hesitantly. “No I am not. I am…We are friends.”

“I am sorry, but in this case you need the explicit consent of the patient’s parents.”

“Can’t he give that consent himself?” Arshad asked.

The nurse seemed like she was holding this speech for the utmost time. “The patient is still a minor, therefore, he cannot. I’m sorry, but I’m afraid you need to leave.”

At that moment, a young man came jogging down the hallway. His short black hair was completely unkempt and in general he looked like a total mess.

And yet, there was something that Arshad recognized about him. It was Soma’s older brother, Ranjit. The one he had just met a few days ago.

Ranjit came to stop in front of the nurse that had just turned away from Arshad. “Excuse me!”

Panting, he started talking to the nurse in a hushed voice. Arshad couldn’t make out the words but it sounded urgent. After a short discussion, the nurse handed the young man a document which he quickly signed and then trailed off to follow the nurse.

 

When he came back, Arshad had taken a seat in the waiting area. Ranjit was now wearing a blue scrub, his hair tucked under a hair net. It seemed like he recognized the white-haired man as his gaze landed on him. As he made to move towards him, Arshad carefully shook his head.

“You should go in first,” he said, the next words almost disappearing beneath his breath. “He needs you.”

Ranjit nodded. Moved. Hesitated. Then he walked a few steps back toward where the nurse was leaning next to the entrance to the nurses’ room. He said a few quick, hushed words and pointed towards Arshad. The nurse answered a few things, shaking her head.

“He’s his boyfriend!” Ranjit finally shouted. It sounded like he didn’t have enough nerves left to fight the anxiety that slowly spread inside his body. He was scared. Of course he was. His younger brother had just been transferred to the ICU, how couldn’t you be scared?

“I am terribly sorry, but we can’t make any exceptions. We need your parents’ agreement for him to…”

“Do you even know who you are talking to? Do you even know who my dad is? _Let him in_!”

The nurse took a hesitant look at the clipboard she was holding, obviously reading out the name of the man in front of her. It seemed to dawn on her then that the man standing in front of her was none other than a famous CEO’s son. That seemed to do its part, since it didn’t take much longer until Arshad was allowed to enter the ICU together with Ranjit.

 

The boy lying inside looked much better than he had feared. He was connected to a few machines that recorded and supervised his heart rate and his breathing, but it was nothing too bad. He was even awake and amenable. Ranjit motioned for Arshad to take a seat while he himself remained standing. Arshad carefully took Soma’s hand and stroked the back of it. “You fucking scared me,” he breathed, pressing a kiss to the back of Soma’s hand.

Ranjit nodded. “Hell yeah, you did. I almost had a heart attack when the hospital called at home. What the hell did you do?”

Soma lifted his gaze. “Ranjit…I…Why…” Tears started to drip down his cheeks. “I’m sorry…”

Ranjit stormed to the other side of the bed, taking a hold of Soma’s other hand. “Hey, bro. It’s alright. I still don’t understand what you did or why you did it, but you just need to know that I am happy that you’re alive and well and I love you, okay?”

Something in Arshad’s chest moved. He knew that he should also be saying something like that. That he should be feeling something like that. But he didn’t really know what he was feeling. Whether he was feeling anything at all. The fear of losing the teen was still deep inside his bones.

“Can I…Can you give us a minute?” he asked, not looking at Ranjit.

Soma’s brother took a long look at the both of them, but then he nodded. “Yes, of course,” he said, leaving the room.

Once he left, Arshad pressed his forehead against Soma’s arm. “How could you do this to me?”

Soma tiredly lifted a brow. “Do what exactly?”

“Almost kill yourself.”

Soma laughed softly. He tiredly lifted the arm that Arshad wasn’t touching and brought his hand to the top of Arshad’s head to pat it. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m still around, aren’t I?”

“ _And what if you weren’t?_ ” Arshad was screaming now. He clawed his hands into the blanket, hot tears dripping down his cheeks. “What if you were dead? What if you had died? Don’t you think of anyone but you? Don’t you think of me?”

After this, the room quieted down again, until only the beeping sound of the machines could be heard. This quietude left them both to their thoughts. Soma inhaled deeply and almost at the same time, the monitor of the heart machine showed how his heart rate quickened.

“Arshad,” he said, his voice barely audible, “Can I…ask you something?”

Arshad said nothing, but instead only nodded.

“… _are you in love with me?_ ”


End file.
